Shattering Mirror
by Psychedelic Dust Bunny
Summary: He stared at the smooth, shiny mirror with narrowed, cold, black eyes. His father stared back at him. Hundreds if not thousands of tiny, glittering shards were sent flying to the floor with a clatter. His father's image disappeared.


**AN: I really need to find another word of 'mirror'…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, as much as I wished I did.**

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He stared at his reflection in the smooth, shiny mirror with narrowed, cold, black eyes. He hated how he looked, of whom he was reminded of every time he saw his face. His navy mask lay on the dresser, long forgotten. His pale fingers ran over his mirror image, smearing the glass with his fingerprints. Untidy, silver hair tilted at an odd angle making him seem taller than he was. Pale lips formed an unhappy scowl on his young, but handsome face.

Why did he have to look so much like him?

Why?

Angry emotions rolled inside him, wanting to be let loose. He struggled to suppress them. Shinobi law forbade giving into emotion and he wasn't about to. His hand stilled and went stiff. Slowly, he took it away from the reflective surface and brought it up to his own face. His skin felt cold under his warm fingertips. Dark eyes closed in dismay as an image of the White Fang of Konoha appeared in his mind's eye. He let out a breath of air, fogging up the mirror, as he forced his father's bleeding form out of his thoughts. How could he? Why didn't he complete the mission? It was against the law to abandon a mission! The fog dissipated.

So why did he do it?

Why did he save his comrades instead?

Why did he disgrace the Hatake name?

Why…?

It was all so confusing. Everything said that his father should have managed to complete his assignment. The diseased Hatake had been stronger than the Sannin! Nothing should've stopped him. He looked away from the mirror and picked up his mask. It hung limply in his hands. This was the only thing to separate him from the White Fang. He slipped it over his unruly hair and straightened it out so it fit properly on his face. Two, angry eyes still stared back at him, reminding him of his father's dead and empty eyes as he found himself gazing into the dusty mirror. The mirror entranced him. Drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He couldn't look away. His father's face replaced his own, frowning down at him. His long silver hair tilted the same way his did and his eyes, the same dark eyes as his, frowned at him.

He scowled.

How he hated the man. He was a traitor! He deserved to be disgraced. He was responsible for making the war worse! He reached to touch the mirror again, this time, to stop the haunting image of Sakumo. The image remained though, in the hard glass. He glared, willing it away. Why, whenever he looked into the mirror, did he see this traitor that called himself a Hatake? How could that man let himself fall from grace to the lowest of the low? Anger was slowly taking over his covered features.

The man should've died sooner!

His father's image scowled at him. It was like it was trying to tell him something.

But what?

His fingers left the cool, reflective surface, leaving new fingerprints. The cold touch of the glass lingered a little bit longer in his fingertips before it faded away.

Just like Sakumo had faded away from glory and life.

The image wouldn't leave and he couldn't tear his eyes away. The mirror cracked as his bare fist slammed into it before shattering. Hundreds if not thousands of tiny, glittering shards were sent flying to the floor with a clatter. Some of them stained crimson. He felt no pain, only relief as his hand bled.

His father was forever removed from his memory…

For the moment…

The glass gleamed up at him as he slowly, as if in a daze, withdrew his bleeding hand. He clutched it to his chest, ignoring the mess he had created. He still sat there looking at the empty frame where the old mirror had been. Just one thought came to his mind as he heard the door slide open with a snap.

"Shit! Kakashi! What happened!? What did you do?"

Rushed footsteps were heard as a blonde man with blue eyes came running over. The man took his injured hand in his own and cursed. A young boy, an Uchiha, stood in the doorway his eyes wide with shock behind orange goggles. He stared at the fragments of glass with a puzzled look, completely oblivious to the outside world.

Why did he do it?

His father's image stood sadly beside him as he silently replied,

"_A comrade's life is always… __**always **__more important than the mission at hand…"_

The rest went unheard as he was slowly carried away by his sensei.

His father disappeared.

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**AN: I was bored when I wrote this, so I don't know if it makes any sense hahaha**


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